


Olden Times

by Merit



Category: The Divine Cities Series - Robert Jackson Bennett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turyin and Shara, both retired, age gracefully and without causing any political dramas. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olden Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevenofspade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenofspade/gifts).



“Aw, shit,” Turyin Mulaghesh said at the sight of dark storm clouds gathering in the distance. Behind her Shara gulped and rushed to the side of the boat. Turyin pensively watched the grey clouds approach, Shara's retching not covered completely by the rising waves slapping against the hull of the ship. Finally Shara exhaled shakily, wiped a hand across her mouth and walked slowly over to Turyin. “A great start to our tour of the Continent.”

“We should have taken an air plane,” Shara muttered, making very undignified throat clearing sounds. She ran a hand through her hair, more silver than black, and gave the clouds a narrow look.

“You don't fly better than you sail,” Turyin said, “You didn't even get off the ground the last time you flew.”

Shara grunted. “It wasn't entirely my fault,” she said sourly.

“You threatened to have the Prime Minister embalmed if she didn't order the plane to stop,” Turyin said.

“We hit a bump and I literally saw a piece of the wing detach! I made an executive decision,” Shara muttered, dismissing the minor political incident with a shrug.

Turyin rocked back on her heels as the various sailors rushed around the ship, tossing rope and yelling. It was an ancient ship and Turyin had felt right at home as soon as she had hauled her small bag aboard. There were barely enough people on board to pay them the proper attention – something she greatly appreciated the older she got. Turyin had almost disembowelled the first person to offer her a seat out of respect of her fucking age.

“It would have been over sooner, at least,” Shara groaned, resting against the rail and staring miserably at the rising waves.

“They spotted land an hour ago,” Turyin said idly, scratching the side of her nose. “We'll probably make landfall before the storm hits,” she added and Shara's face brightened. “Right on time for the ceremony!” Shara's face fell.

“Another statue,” she said tonelessly, despair heavy on her brow.

“They sure like seeing your face around the place,” Turyin said, giving Shara a quick once over before shaking her head quizzically. Shara gave a half hearted glare but the green tinge of her face dispelled any effect.

“You're one to talk,” Shara retorted, “Haven't they named yet another university department after you?”

Turyin made a face. “Don't remind me,” she muttered. “You say yes once and suddenly they get all offended if you even _dare_ to say no.”

“You're a national institution,” Shara said, nodding.

“They gave me an honorary degree,” Turyin said morosely. “I've forgotten how many I've got now. And they always expect me to give a speech,” she said. “What am I supposed to say? Try not to fuck up as much as me?” She gestured, her left arm creaking ithe salt air. She frowned at it. “And then they all nod as if I said something wise or some shit. There's too much respect these days.”

“Horrible,” Shara said, with a smile.

“And don't you talk about national institutions! Aren't they talking about renaming the new parliament building after you?”

Shara soured immediately. “Children these days,” she said, kicking the railing. She winced.

“You're just an old lady now, Ashara Komayd,” Turyin snickered. “You've got to be careful with that body of yours. They'll probably want to put it in a museum after you're dead!”

 

* * *

 

The statue was grotesque. Turyin could barely keep her mouth closed. First out of shock. Then out of unbridled amusement as Shara had to thank dozens of people for the honor. The artist was some earnest young person, preening under all the attention. The local government dignitaries seemed to ignore the statue, smiles freezing when their gazes lingered.

All of them wished to be photographed with Shara, the statue carefully framed so it would only appear as a smudge behind their heads. By the second hour Shara's face had frozen into a rictus of a smile.

“This is Divine,” Shara murmured, turning her head so she could avoid staring at the statue directly, “I thought most had been destroyed in the Blink. Hardly anything of Ahanas' had survived, but there were mentions of it in sacred texts about how it _aided_ conception. I never thought I would see one of _myself_. However I'm not sure if this boy is referencing Ahanas and one of her fertility totems or if he just thought the fucking thing up.”

Turyin almost broke the skin inside her mouth biting so hard so she wouldn't burst into laughter. “You don't need to buy me a birthday present this year,” she said, tilting her head. “I almost didn't see it but that's a - ”

“Shut up,” Shara ground out. The artist was making some long winded speech, half the crowd had turned away from him, but Turyin half listened because the _things_ he was saying.

“He just used the word respect six times in a sentence,” Turyin said, snickers threatening to erupt, “I can see a _tit_. And I'm fairly certain half these people probably wanted you dead at some point for your fucking name.”

“I want to die,” Shara said. “Haven't I suffered enough?”

“Apparently not,” Turyin cackled. She stared at the statue for several seconds before shaking her head. It was almost ugly enough for Turyin to want the Worldly Regulations to come back into force.

 

* * *

 

“We're free,” Turyin sighed, leaning against a wall as the last of the crowd trickled out. “Remind me again to never humiliate parliament again. They come up with the worst punishments. A friendship tour,” she spat out, shaking her head with disgust.

“Parliament never listened to me,” Shara mused, shaking her head, looking reflective. “It was always Vinya who had them wrapped around her fingers.”

Turyin opened her mouth to reply when a girl rushed up to her. Her guard went up instinctively but it was only a moment before she relaxed, putting on her best friendly smile. The girl stared at Turyin's feet. Turyin wondered if she had tracked something in. Turyin had been here once when she was in her twenties, new to command. The whole place smelled a lot better now that they had a working sewerage system so she was fairly certain her boots were clean. She had even had them polished before she had left Saypur, wincing as she handed over the coins because her back didn't like it when she bent over polishing boots for hours.

The small girl had looked up at her, eyes wide, and shoved something in Turyin's hands before running off, her parents smiling apologetically over at Turyin and Shara. Turyin never felt comfortable accepting random gifts, especially from a child so she raised her hand. But the family had already left. It was near the end of the day, lights flaring across the city and she blinked as she looked away. The city had seemed to multiply tenfold since she had last been here.

It had been an age ago. She shook her head, her body aching, her arm sore and smiled down at the gift the little girl had given her.

“What is it?” Shara asked, looking over her shoulder.

“It's a picture of me,” Turyin said.

“You have a sword for an arm,” Shara commented. “Appropriate,” she smiled. They shared a wry look.

“I think I'll have it framed,” Turyin said.


End file.
